Page 11 of Preacher Man

It should be wrong.

He's everything she'd avoided and should continue to swerve. She'd seen him casually screw countless women for god's sake, recognizes clearly, he's trying to make her number nine billion in that list.

She couldn't stop kissing him. His mouth was skilled, moving this way, that way, dipping to deepen, backing off to nibble, but always keeping strong contact. Her lips were swollen.

Kiss swelled by Preacher. Now there's a poster slogan.

There was a trip wire connected to the pulsing erogenous zones on her body and they grew hotter, more insistent, clamoring for sex. Her tongue stroked deep.

Ruby went on kissing him, her fingers clutched the front of his shirt, he was so damn tall her neck was almost broken with the awkward angle, his taste; explosive, strong, masculine with a hint of mint in the background, he tasted so damn good she practically purred for more of his tongue stroking her teeth, he laughed against her lips. It wasn’t only her mouth that felt the impact, it hit her square in the chest, her midsection closing in, feeling too tight, too hot, too everything.

He grunted and took her mouth like he owned it.

The sound, sexy as hell.

Her core clenched hard enough she nearly orgasmed right there. His fingers trailed to the base of her spine where she was sensitive, not many men knew that about her, but he seemed to hone in on that spot, drawing circles, making her melt into a feline purr against his tongue.

She'd thought kissing a man with a beard would be unappealing.

It was the complete opposite. He kept his goatee part of his facial hair trimmed close to the skin, and it was silky soft as though he tended to it like a garden.

The man was sexy as the devil himself.

The devil.

Devil.Kyle.

Fuck. A dreaded boulder blasted her chest.

A bucket of figurative water over her head she wrenched away, making a gurgled disgusted noise, her hand going to her mouth to wash him away.

How could she have gotten so carried away like that after she swore she was not getting involved with men and especially men like him ever again.

The kind of man who just takes you over.

Ruby was done with that.

“Not how I wanted our first kiss to end, Rubes.” He was breathing like he’d been running for days. Seeing the lust clear in those hooded eyes flashing at her. He wants her and for a crazy second when she wasn’t thinking at all, she wanted him, too. So, fucking much, heat walloped through her spine, how long had it been since she was wanted in that way?

Crazy. For fuck's sake.

"Did I make you all wet and worked up, Ruby?" lips brushed and it brought her out of her sexually inducing bubble, using a hand she pushed his chest.

His eyes were amazing. Dark pools of emerald.

Full of sex and want.

"You think a lot of your technique if you assume I'm easy enough to be turned on that quick by a few lip smacks. It’s my constitutional right to kiss and stop kissing who I want, pal." She tried to sound sarcastic, really, she did, only it came out breathy.

Not buying it he smirked. "Let me check and I'll lick my soaked fingers clean afterward."

"Inappropriate." Skin heated. Thank god for her mother's Dominican heritage that there were no outward signs of her blushing. Except, maybe he’d made her a jittery wreck with a few dirty words. Dirty words she’d loved.

"Has it turned you on? Tell me and I'll stop asking how wet your pussy is."

"Christ. Stop. You have diarrhoea of the mouth, Preacher. I let you kiss me. Now goodnight, I gotta close the bar. We mortals like to sleep."

She knew what he tasted like now. If only she could have gone the rest of her life and not known that little detail, the feel of his lips remained even putting space between them.